


MY WOUND; keeps bleeding

by MariposaMonarca



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Depression, F/M, Friendship, Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariposaMonarca/pseuds/MariposaMonarca
Summary: Wounds in the heart take too long to heal, they must be treated in time or left to heal on their own. But is it possible for it to heal if you are truly alone? That's how Butch felt, he had his brothers, his best friend, yet he didn't have Buttercup. The one who left him that deep wound was not there to heal it. And she wasn't coming back, Buttercup could never come back.
Relationships: Butch/Buttercup Utonium
Kudos: 9





	1. OO

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [MI CICATRIZ; sigue sangrando](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/756744) by Mariposa Monarca. 



> I would like to tell you that this story has real events and vivid experiences, it is based on a particular incident, one that moved me a lot and I wanted to capture it in a story. The person who told me this was the first to read it and she thought it was great, so she gave me permission to publish it. I must also say that there are things that are adapted for the fandom, be it names, personal relationships, etc. I have to include my OC, Tommy, since in my headcanon, he is Butch's best friend.
> 
> You may find some resemblance to my other story, "FAREWELL; a winter's tale", but just because they are similar doesn't mean they are the same. I have based, also, on a song from the anime "Given", but, this time, on the opening: "Kizuato" by Centimillimental.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 心に刺さったままの傷を  
> 携えて日々は続いていく  
> 無理に抜きとればとめどないから  
> きっとこのままでいい
> 
> With a wound caught in my heart  
> I go on every day.  
> If you force it out it will bleed endlessly,  
> it will be better to leave it as it is.

When Butch demanded to his brothers that they never bring up that horrible topic of conversation ever again in their lives, they had no choice but to accept his decision. It was difficult, yes, because Brick and Boomer were those who believed that communication could be a great healer of the soul, but for Butch, in that case, with that topic, it meant opening wounds he didn't want, and that is, well, he only had one wound, one, and that one had a peculiar feminine name by which it should not be called: _Buttercup_. That name can't be named, not even in case!

He finished fixing his uniform for school, had already had breakfast so he went ahead of his brothers, took the house keys, showed them to his brothers and left. He was going to pick up his stalwart Tommy, who lived a couple of streets below his own, and they would go to school together. There were days when all three of them would go for the boy, but sometimes, some days, where Butch didn't feel much like talking, he would go alone for him. He found his friend's company calmer than that of his brothers, since they went out of their way not to _name her_ , so much so that it was obvious, whereas Tommy never felt the need to name her because he didn't share much with her.

"We have to get there fast," said Tommy, fixing his hair back, "I don't want them to leave us with the dirty lab instruments again".

"You really were upset from last class," Butch sighs, placing both hands on the back of his neck. "It was just a mistake".

"A timing error that almost ended up ruining my place on the honor roll. We were lucky it wasn't an evaluation at all," Tommy looked indignant as Butch smiled. "Take me seriously".

"But I am," he laughed a little, "sorry, now, we're on time, we'll be on time, we'll finish the solutions on time. Everything in time".

They followed the road in silence, that was one of the main reasons why Butch preferred to go with Tommy instead of his brothers, he spoke just a little, the just and necessary, although with him he talked more than usual, in moments where there was nothing to say, he didn't make an effort to find some topic of conversation. If there wasn't one, there wasn't one, forcing conversations would only end up making the situation more uncomfortable.

"Are you going to the prom?"

The question, spoken by Tommy, brought him out of his mental lethargy. He looked at him with confusion, shook his head a little, he hadn't processed the information.

"I don't feel like it," he answered his friend, "besides, I think I have better ideas in my head to spend that night".

"Like what?"

"Going to my best friend's house and eating some of the delicious Korean food his father makes while we get drunk drinking _soju_ ".

Tommy laughed, he loved it when Tommy laughed, it made him remember that he was still alive, and that it was good to be alive.

"I was thinking about the same idea, besides, I have a new series in mind that we can watch that night".

"It's settled," Butch says and drapes an arm around his friend's shoulders, "you better not tell me you've got some last minute date".

"I'd have to tell _you_ that," Tommy tries to push him away, in vain. "Maybe the girls from the volleyball club will show up to tell you they're 'excited' about the prom".

"I think I'm the least interested in the whole prom thing".

After telling his friend that, he stopped hugging him and looked down the road. If he were with his brothers, they would tell him to go to the prom, get a date, give Robin, who had always been interested in him, a chance. However, Butch wasn't the kind of person who would use someone he didn't like to give them false illusions just to please his brothers, even if they insisted it was "good for him." Butch didn't want to go out, didn't want to go to prom, didn't want to have a girlfriend just to say his senior year was loaded with discovery. Doing all that meant moving on, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

The wound Buttercup left in his life was so deep that it still wasn't closing. It was still fresh, still open. He hated himself for asking everyone not to name her, but he was the first to do so. By naming her, he remembered her, though that didn't mean he never did. He always thought of her, but saying her name, spelling it, gave him the feeling that he was reliving all the memories, they seemed to start playing like an old movie, someone found the tape and put it in the projector. It never got dusty.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he stumbled over the pavement divider. "Come on, I want to run. You up for a race to the school?"

"Fuck you, I'll end up sweaty and mess up my uniform".

They stared at each other, silent and with a rather slow walking pace. Tommy smiled at him, his eyes got a little smaller than normal, and he started running. As if by an act of magic, he felt the particular scent of menthol shampoo. It lasted the instant of a blink of an eye, the memory of Buttercup running in front of him, her uniform skirt dancing as she ran away, as well as her short dark hair. But that was just a fragment that had occurred at some point in his life.

"That's not fair, Moon!" -he shouted at an advancing Tommy before going after him. "You caught me off guard!"

" _Stupid Buttercup_ ," he thought as he ran and released tension. " _Get out of my head._ "

**.  
.**

"Nice serve!" he heard one of his teammates tell him, Butch did not thank him as he was more focused on positioning himself before the opposing team tried to steal a point.

He was training for the next tournament that would be played among the schools in the region to select the representative of the region, already thinking about the next national tournament. Butch was in the starting lineup, he was the flashiest wing spiker on the team, but he wasn't the best player, all the credit went to the amazing libero. Playing sports, he released stress, he felt active, he did it for mere distraction, truth be told, he didn't like volleyball, but he was good at it, so playing it didn't seem like a bad way to kill time.

Every training had its rewards: Tommy trained on the same days, he played soccer, and always waited for him to go home together. After releasing so much energy, so many feelings that seemed to go away as he sweated, he needed a comfort to keep him company. His brothers were unconditional, but Tommy's company was incomparable, especially because he understood him perfectly.

 _"If you play sports, you can heal_ ," that had been one of the few times Tommy had tried to advise him regarding his mental healing.

"How was your training today?" asked the Korean.

"Well," he answered before sighing, accompanying it all with a small but loud groan, "it did me good to get free for today. I'll be able to get to study for the math exam".

"That's good," Tommy fixed his hair and arranged his bag. "So, did your head clear for today?"

He used to keep silent whenever he was asked that question, Tommy was no exception. The latter realized he wouldn't get an answer, he stopped looking at him, Butch was inwardly grateful for that. Just because he released his head for a moment didn't mean he was healed. That wound was one that, as mentioned, was still open, still fresh. How long would it take for the first layer of scab to begin to form? He didn't know, he didn't know.

Once he arrived home and had his brothers in the room shared by the three of them, he preferred to have stayed outside, in the living room, or in the garden. They were both telling him that they had dates, that they would have to figure out what they would wear to the dance. Should they wear some kind of flower? A scarf? "Butch, help us," they would say, but he just shrugged and laughed lazily.

"You can wear your school uniform and your dates would be thrilled. Don't give it so much thought, it's just a prom," he remembers him telling them. The situation, strangely, he was living it as a memory, as if he had virtual reality glasses on, because it didn't feel real, it didn't feel like _his own_ , it was like being alive without really being alive.

In that instant, he wanted the whole world to go black, he wanted time to pass quickly and for Boomer to turn off the light in the room. He wanted everyone to go to sleep, he wanted to be the only one awake, that's how he liked to pass the sorrows. At that moment, he imagined that it was already two o'clock in the morning, that he was listening to Bryan Adams and that tears were running down his face and touching the tips of his ears. It wasn't that he liked that singer, nor did his lyrics reach him much, but they were loaded with memories, ones that, just by touching them, break your heart.

His brothers were still talking, in fact, Brick was already taking out the shirts they had stored in the back of the closet, while Boomer seemed to be scolding him. Butch, meanwhile, was closing his eyes to disappear.


	2. O1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 深く抉って そのついでにいっそ記憶を奪ってよ  
> 届かない声ばっかりがまた僕を締めつけるんだよ  
> 深く探って ねえ僕の中の痛みも見てよ
> 
> Dig, dig and take all these memories with you.  
> The voice that doesn't reach you makes me suffer again.  
> Dig deeper, look at all this pain inside me

No matter how much time passes, deep wounds take time to heal, suddenly they open up and hurt as much as the first day or even more, because you thought they were healed. It had been four years since Butch had entered college, he was in his last year, his last semesters actually, away from Townsville, as if he could heal better by getting away from the memories.

He had been living with a wound for five years. Time heals all, but that doesn't seem to be the case with him.

By some kind of luck, he goes to the same university as Tommy, and shares a room with him. He thought it was great, his friend was an unconditional support, not that his siblings aren't, however, being around them would bring back the memories, he preferred to stay away, at least for the duration of his tuition. Being with Tommy, at the university, meant not making an effort to adapt, actually, the fact that they are so close friends caught the attention of some others who did not hesitate to integrate them into their social circles, that's how both discovered the university life: parties, alcohol, absurd laughter and priceless moments of relaxation. Their company, in itself, was not only about university bohemia, they also accompanied each other in their studies, even if their disciplines were different: Butch studied journalism, Tommy studied medicine.

Tommy's presence ensured, for the brothers who remained in Townsville, that Butch remained involved in social life, i.e., that he continued to socialize with peers, to go out and, most importantly, to keep moving. Tommy had insisted that Butch continue to play volleyball, and while Butch had been hesitant at first, Tommy telling him that he was going to coach, too - soccer, of course - finally convinced him.

"Keeping busy," that's what Butch was doing, and Tommy knew that this determination on his friend's part conditioned whether he'd end up doing things wrong. It wasn't going to work, he kept telling himself, "I must do this to forget  _ about it _ ," so he kept thinking about what he needed  _ to heal _ , not forget. That day, when they were finishing drinking a bottle of beer in their room, something that was forbidden, but, come on, who would discover them, Tommy listened to the daily routine that Butch had had, since he brushed his teeth, until that precise moment. They kept some silence, a few seconds, but one of them spoke.

"Even though you talk too much," said Tommy leaning back on his own bed, "you never talk about yourself”.

“ _ Ugh _ , don't be a pain in the ass," Butch complained, setting the empty bottle down on the side of the nightstand. “You know I'm a cold person," he put his hand to his chest, "cold and closed off”.

“Don't act," Tommy scoffed, "You're just closed off about one thing," he settled back on his bed, the black hair that used to sit on his forehead, drifting to one side. “Let out what you feel, you can't always keep it all inside”.

Butch knew why he said it, it's something that hasn't changed despite the years. He threw his pillow at him, they both laughed and decided it was time to sleep, the next day they had classes.

The room was dark and, as if they were at a great distance, he could hear the soft snoring of Tommy, who had settled down with his face to the wall. Butch watched him for a moment, as best he could because of the dim lighting, then turned toward his own wall, mentally intent on falling asleep. But as usual, every time he left his head open, every time he let himself drift off into his shitty thoughts, the pressure in his chest would appear. He'd had a good day, for God's sake, he'd even drank in his room! He'd committed an  _ illegality _ ! He should be thrilled at being a "rebel"! He burst into tears, warm tears were falling, he avoided sobbing.

He cried silently, he was sure Tommy was asleep enough not to hear him. He was unaware that, in reality, his friend was sitting on his bed, witnessing the suffering that afflicted him, but Tommy didn't know how to react. One part of him wanted to hug Butch, while the other told him to give him his space. Butch was like that, he would rather suffer in silence than worry others. Butch didn't know that others were worried about him staying in that condition.

**.  
.**

After Thursday's training session, Butch left the dressing room as usual. Today would be a rather boring trip back to the dorm, Tommy wasn't training because he had to study for an exam, so he wanted to escape quickly from there. But he felt the heavy hand of the star of the team, the redhead whose name sounded like a brand of chocolate. Heinsberg, a pretentious and very German name for someone who looked very much like an Irishman, smiled at him and nodded.

“Do you have a moment?” the boy says.

“I'm not interested in boys," Butch answers immediately.

“No way," laughs Heinsberg nervously, "neither am I, but I didn't understand what you meant. Anyway, I need to tell you something”.

“Are you going to propose to me?”

“No, I'm not!” Heinsberg seemed to be getting angry, while Butch was enjoying the moment. “Come on, will you let me tell you?”

“Okay, but quick, I've got a mess waiting for me in my room with all the things I have to do," Butch sighed.

“I wanted to tell you that our team manager is interested in you," Butch stretched his neck forward a little and raised his eyebrows.

“What about you? Are you a matchmaker?”

“No," Heinsberg fidgeted, Butch smiled with a certain superiority, "it's just…”

“Thanks for telling me, I guess," he pursed his lips, "but I'm not interested in relationships at the moment”.

“I don't want you to take me for a gossip," said the red-haired man just as Butch was thinking of leaving. “She asked me to tell you, she's shy…”

“Okay, then you tell her that I don't want anything. Are we clear? Now, I'm very tired and I really have a lot of mess to solve”.

He smiles a friendly smile, Heinsberg tenses up and looks strange, and walks away, leaving the red-haired man alone. He put on his black hoodie hat, arranged his bag and headed for the bus stop to hurry to the dorm.

The bus didn't take long to pass, in fact, he didn't wait more than five minutes when his ride came into view. He was relieved that he wouldn't have to be in the company of the rest of the team, who were already on their way, including Heinsberg and the team manager, a pretty girl with brown hair and dark eyes, Susie Jenkins was her name. No thanks, he wanted to save himself the discomfort. He boarded the shuttle and took one of the empty, lonely seats in the same row as the driver, leaning his head against the window.

He closed his eyes and let the whitish light inside the transport be the only thing that kept connecting him with reality, because the vibration of the bus became less sensitive when he let himself be carried away by his thoughts. That light brought back the memory of the neon light outside the store Butch and Buttercup used to frequent every Thursday after their practices. He felt he opened his eyes and he was there again, he heard her voice, but he felt as if he was underwater, since it was distant and he could not understand very clearly, however, she was there, with the school uniform, the blue pleated skirt, the white blouse and the tie of the same color of the skirt, she was extending him an ice cream while she smiled, her mane hair and her bangs fell gracefully, she had a smile drawn on her face where her teeth could be seen a little crooked.

The taste of that cream ice cream, apple-lemon, was the reminder that winter was ending and spring was beginning, he didn't know how to explain it, but with that ice cream they both knew that they were passing from a cold season to a nicer and fresher one, the best season in their opinions. They used to eat it every time the cherry blossoms bloomed, a scent that also came to him as a memory, as a caress. A tear also fell down her cheek.

“Shit," he muttered and quickly wiped it away.

As a result, he returned to his reality, he was on the bus.

“Distract me, distract me, distract me, distract me," he said to himself and looked out the window at the windows of some stores. “Everything is green and yellow, I  _ hate  _ those colors," he said, swallowed saliva, another tear wanted to fall. “I want to get there fast”.

" _ It's bad for me to be so lonely _ ," he thought, " _ I want to see Tommy _ ".

**.  
.**

“My manager…”

“Susie," a sleepy Tommy immediately corrected him.

“Okay, I get it," he sighed and continued but exaggerated his pronunciation of the girl's name. “ _ Susie _ likes me”.

“Oh," he set his coffee cup down on the tray and looked at Butch, "that's good”.

“Good?” Butch wondered. “Why? Here's my apple," he put the fruit next to Tommy's on his tray, "I don't like the green ones”.

“Why would that be bad?” Tommy shrugged. “After all, Susie's a nice girl. It would do you any good to go out with someone”.

Butch hesitates a moment, his eyes fixed on the coffee cup, the pancakes still untouched even though he was able to order them with blackberry jelly instead of honey, he sighs heavily and nods.

“Yes..., you may be right, Tommy”.

The latter stares at him, he knew Butch was unconvinced, besides that, he was worried that he had no appetite, he hadn't even taken a sip of his coffee. The university cafeteria was getting more and more crowded, so the ambient noise was getting thicker between conversations and the particular sound of the cutlery against the plates.

“Not yet?”

Tommy's question brings him out of his little trance. He nods and leans over to pick up his coffee cup and take a sip. It was bitter, it wasn't worth sweetening him up, his life wouldn't be fixed by the way he drank a simple coffee.

“How am I going to do that," Butch mutters and laughs weakly, raising his head and looking straight into his friend's eyes. “I'm not ready”.

“You're right, you have to go at your own time and if you think you're not ready, then you're not ready and that's it," he smiled at him. “You have my support and your brothers', who told me that you haven't communicated with them”.

“Uh…” Butch scratched his head, "later, later”.

“Eat”.

“Okay”.

After a few hours, he returned to his room. His classes for the day were over and he had no training that day. He would wait for Tommy to go to dinner, he didn't like to eat alone. The room wasn't too small, not like it was the most spacious either, they each had their own bedside table and the separation between the two was equivalent to the optimal space for a person standing upright. At the end of their beds, at each wall, there was a closet where they kept their belongings and next to them, attached to the wall, a table that served as a desk, and on top of that, a cork rack where they each had their own notes and posters relevant to their own interests and duties.

But he was on his bed, he didn't have the light on, he didn't want to turn it on either, he just wanted to look out the window. The sky was beginning to be tinged with warm colors in contrast to the cool wind that was beginning to be felt. Warm colors, cool atmosphere, it was a bit like Butch's life and reality. He lay back on his bed, made sure he could still look out the window. In a fetal position he waited for the silence to envelop him and his tears to begin to fall. He didn't sob, he didn't struggle to breathe, he didn't utter a sound, he just let his tears fall.

“I wish I could just cut off every memory I have of you," he whispered.

He took a big breath of air.

“I wish I could see you again”.

His lower lip began to tremble, his gaze not leaving the sky that was already getting a little darker. He closed his eyes tightly.

“I wish... Buttercup…”


	3. O2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 夢で会えたって意味ないよ君はここいないの  
> 何度も繰り返し見るまたあの日の面影を  
> ずっと会いたくて  
> 気付かぬように心殺してるの
> 
> There's no point in seeing you in dreams because you're not here.  
> But I see you there again and again since that day.  
> I always hope to see you again,  
> I pretend not to realize that it's killing my heart.

« “Remember, guys, you can't go near the sea, that's the only strict rule, because by now you must know that you're not allowed to go away from the group either”.

Their old teacher's instructions seemed more and more distant, Butch was looking at Buttercup, who didn't seem to have a fixed point to look at. That school trip, along with the class, they went to the Museum of Archaeology and Oceanography, and now, they were given a break in which they could recreate and distract themselves on the beach. He felt the smell of the sea, the breeze played with his hair, messing it up even more than usual, suddenly, she pulled him by the jacket he was wearing, smiled at him like a little girl who is about to commit some mischief.

“What's your hurry?” he asked, but she didn't answer him.

She led him to the avenue leading to the beach, they took a seat on one of the benches shaded by a palm tree and she sighed in relaxation.

“I had my eye on this bench,” she told him, and Butch's hair stood on end, she looked at him leaning her head on her own arm, the one that was stretched over the back of the bench. “I hope you don't mind having to share some quality time with me”.

“No way, I wouldn't mind, it's just that you know I shouldn't get in trouble. I risk suspension and while I don't mind missing classes,” she folded her arms, “I'll mind if they don't let Tommy hang out with me anymore,” he looks at her, she laughs. “You're lucky you're not banned from hanging out with me”.

“It's just that I have the same amount of sanctions as you do”.

“That's why they don't tell you I'm a bad influence?”

“No,” she shrugs, “or maybe they do, but they know I'm stubborn and I'm not going to walk away from you”.

“Well,” Butch smiles, “then I'll be a little quiet. Parting with you is not an option”.

“You better hope so, you son of a bitch”.

In the distance, Butch could see his brothers walking down the avenue, they were pulling Tommy to enter the sand like them, but he refused. He looked at Buttercup again, the tip of her nose was turning a little reddish, as were her cheekbones. He observed her complete, from her dark clothes to the white brooches on either side of her bangs, as if she were a precious statue that he didn't want to forget any detail of. Her skin was not very pale, with the constant exposure to the sun due to the fact that you could never see her at home, at least not when the weather was good, it was quite tanned, it gave her a dizzy exotic touch, it was quite a vivid color, actually. At that moment, when Butch's eyes were on her hands, he returned her gaze and smiled at her.

“Wouldn't you like some ice cream?”

“If it's the same flavor you always choose…” He grimaced in disgust.

“Bingo!”

“Okay,” he sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead, “if we can find a store that sells it, I'll buy it for both of us. But only if we happen to find one”.

“Don't fuck with me, you won't find something as good as that ice cream by chance,” she was offended. “Or do you think my tastes are common?”

“They're not common, I'm sure of that,” he slid further down the bench, “I'm just so comfortable I could stand here all day”.

Buttercup was silent, watched him relax and imitated her friend, which was somewhat amusing to Butch. Sometimes they behaved as if they were just one, acting out of reflex, or as if they lived in constant "mirroring", that effect of imitating the gestures of someone you love very much or spend most of your time with. It didn't take much contact between them for both to feel comfortable and warm in each other's company. They enjoyed the calmness of the place, the breeze, the beach aroma. Everything seemed so harmonious, but when Buttercup spoke, that harmony was destroyed:

“Did I tell you I'm going to a concert tomorrow?” ».

Butch woke up fast, his heartbeat racing, breathing ragged. He was in his room, Tommy was already asleep in his bed, he picked up his cell phone and realized that his friend had left him a sandwich that was still packaged. He looked at the time, it was already one in the morning, his stomach creaked from hunger, but it was so late he'd rather go back to sleep. Even if he put on his pajamas and crawled back into bed, once he put his head on the pillow he felt afraid to fall asleep. He didn't want to dream about "the concert".

During the last three days he had had dreams related to the last week, but only now he was afraid of that day, and he had felt so much reality.... He didn't want to feel  _ those  _ emotions again, he didn't want his heart to ache with that intensity, not again. However, he ends up falling asleep after an hour, and no, he doesn't dream of that last day, instead, he is able to see again the figure of a sixteen year old Buttercup, who moved leaving a halo of color, as if she was a painting. She was seen wearing a knee-length green dress, it was a very vivid green, she was barefoot, her hair was loose and her cheeks were without color, as if she had been still for a long, long time. She looks at him, or so he senses, and bows her head, a couple of seconds pass without saying anything, in the distance, a vibrating noise could be heard.

“ _ What are you waiting for? _ ” he hears her say, in a voice so clear that his chest tightens, " _ Aren't you going to class? How can you pretend to be professional if you ignore your alarm? _ ”

That's when Butch opens his eyes again. The vibration was his alarm on his nightstand. He sits up in bed and picks up his cell phone to stop that noise, he goes to take the sandwich that was still on the nightstand, he knew he had to get ready for class. He covers his face and sighs. The pain in his chest does not stop and the tears want to come out again. He notices that Tommy was already sitting on his bed, he didn't want Tommy to see him in that state, he would worry, so he gets out of his bed and takes his towel that he had on his desk chair, as well as his toiletries.

“I'm going to take a shower," he says to his friend, who was completely disheveled and had smaller eyes than usual.

He didn't give him time to respond, as he got out very quickly. Butch thought that this would deflect any kind of concern on his part. Sometimes he forgot that Tommy was smarter than he looked and that he realized the situation, that he had heard him sobbing and that he had noticed that look of pain he was carrying with him that morning.

**.  
.**

Susie, the team manager, was usually very attentive to everyone, but after Heinsberg had told him about the girl's interest in him, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. It wasn't as if he didn't feel flattered that there was someone interested in him, it was that it made him feel, in a way, indebted, even if he didn't have to. Susie liked him, no problem with that, the problem starts when you realize that Susie would do anything and everything to get Butch to pay her some attention. He wasn't much of a relationship guy, the one he was most intimate with was the setter and the libero, they used to practice together and apart from the rest as it was the surprise strategy of their matches. But now, Susie approached them every chance she got, asking them if they needed anything. She was pretty, very pretty, everyone seemed to have a slight crush on her when they first saw her, there was even one or the other who had a crush on her, the libero was one of them. But to Butch, Susie was just another teammate, nothing more than that, she didn't arouse any kind of interest.

Don't be fooled, it's not like Butch's heart had to be devoted to someone outside of the volleyball circle, it's just that he didn't want to give anyone the chance to take his heart. Dating meant "moving on," and he wasn't too fond of "moving on."

"It feels ugly that I can move on and you can't," Butch thought.

After dinner, Tommy told him he had to go to the library for a moment, so Butch went to the bedroom. Once he was in the hallway and fumbling for his key in his pants pocket, he felt his cell phone vibrate. Checking to see who was calling him, thinking it might be Tommy, he smiled as he realized it was his brothers, Boomer, actually, requesting a video call. He answered bluntly and waited for the picture to load. His showed his smiling face contrasting with the white lights of the dorm hallway, while Boomer's showed his two brothers side by side in what he recognized as the living room.

“Hi, guys," Butch greeted and pulled the key out of his pocket.

“ _ How's it going, Butch, _ " Boomer asked. “ _ How's your college life? _ ”

“I'm not complaining," he replied once he was inside. “Wait, let me turn on the light," he flicked the switch and his room lit up. “Come on, guys, how are you doing?”

“ _ Everything's fine here _ ," Brick replied. “ _ We were calling you because we thought you might need our help _ ”.

“Not really," he sat down on his bed. “Maybe you need mine”.

“ _Personally, I miss you_ ," Boomer said and snorted. “ _But_ , nah, _I don't need anything from_ _a fool like you_ ”.

“Did you call me to insult me, you two assholes?” he pretends to be offended.

“ _ Maybe _ ," laughs Brick. “ _ The truth is, you moron, we really miss you _ ”.

“It's not long until the end of the year vacations, can't you hold on a little? Don't get melancholic”.

“ _ Yes, but… _ ” Boomer seemed to be having a hard time continuing to speak, so he kept silent, Butch arched an eyebrow.

“What's the matter?”

“ _ Butch _ ," Brick said, " _ it's just... it's  _ November  _ already, aren't you planning on coming? _ ”

“Oh, for Thanksgiving?” he hastened to answer.

“ _ You know that's not what I mean _ ”.

He looked around, he was alone. He wanted to get out of that conversation. He smiled at his brothers, opened his mouth as if he was going to answer, but pretended to hear something.

“Of course I'll go…,” he pretended to look at the door, "Huh? Ah! Guys, I have to leave you. A classmate is coming to pick up some notes. I'll call you soon, okay?”

He didn't let his brothers answer him, he didn't want to keep dragging out a conversation that would make him feel vulnerable, more so considering the dreams he had been having. If he spoke, he would cry and he didn't want to cry. He had sworn not to show weakness again, the farewell had been dedicated without expression, only when he saw the white balloons floating in the sky, he smiled as he cried. Those balloons were quickly lost in the sky due to the clouds that began to cover it, he remembers, as if it had been the forecast of that same morning, that the maximum temperature was twelve degrees and that rain was predicted from nine o'clock at night.

Butch hated November with all his life.

He hated it so much that he preferred to believe it didn't exist.

He disliked Thanksgiving because it falls in November.

He disliked autumn because it feels so much like November.

He doesn't like dry leaves because it's so classic October and fucking November.

He doesn't like to think about November because he gets teary-eyed.

“My goodness," he murmured as he felt the tears fall down his cheeks, "how I hate you…”

He covered his eyes, he began to tremble from the tension of the moment. He knew it was wrong to want to cry alone, but he didn't want to worry others. In that case, he was becoming aware of it: keeping things to himself only caused him more harm. He didn't like to be the center of attention, he didn't want sympathy either, sometimes he just wanted a hug. But the arms he wanted to feel were gone.

“Come," he sobbed, pressing his fingers against his eyes in an attempt to suppress his tears, "please come…”

It was getting a little harder to breathe, until in time he took a big gulp of air and let out a whimper. There was no turning back, he had started to cry. He didn't notice Tommy entering the room and the smile on his face was completely wiped off when he saw him in that state, but Butch really hadn't noticed his arrival. Tommy didn't wait, put his things on the floor, kicked the door shut with his heel and hurried to Butch. He hugged him and Butch had no choice but to reciprocate the gesture, he grabbed the orange sweater he was wearing, hid his face between those folds, his shoulders were rising and falling rapidly; there was no consolation, it was pure crying, as much as the first day after the last.

“I want her to come," he spoke to him with difficulty, "I want her to come. Why can't she? Fuck!” That cry made his throat ache.

“Let it out, Butch," he didn't want to cry, but seeing his friend so broken made it hard for him. “You have me here, please, just cry”.

“She can come in my dreams," his voice cracked, "but she's not here, Tommy, and I want her  _ here _ ”.

" _ I'm so sorry... You kept so much inside you, I'm glad you can cry, _ " Tommy thought, as he continued to hug a grief-stricken Butch.


	4. O3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 聞こえてるまだりあるな  
> 君の呼吸を代わりに担っていく  
> きっとそうしていくずっとそうしていく
> 
> 聞こえてるまだりありな  
> 君の心臓を代わりに背負っていく
> 
> 君は僕になる  
> 僕は君になる
> 
> I can still hear you breathing,  
> it seems so real,  
> I'll carry it around with me, I'm sure I will, I always will.
> 
> I can still hear your heartbeat, it feels so real,  
> I'll keep it with me.
> 
> You will become me.  
> I will become you."

After that night of crying, where Butch's tears didn't stop for several minutes, which seemed like hours to both of them, Tommy insisted that he should take a leave of absence for his mental health.

" _ There is a support network _ ," Butch recalls Tommy telling him.

But Butch refused, insisting that he would want to keep himself distracted, somehow, classes and volleyball. If he took the leave, he'd be sent home, and for him that was worse. He had applied to a college three hours from Townsville for a reason, because it kept him from being overwhelmed by the memories that, being at home, would fill his head. Anyway, he would have a week off for Thanksgiving, he preferred to continue with his classes until the date arrived, besides, he would go with Tommy on the trip, going with company would distract him better than being locked in his room back home reliving and bringing up memories that, better, he didn't touch.

At Tommy's insistence, after Butch tried to act like it was nothing the next day, he went to the party thrown by the seniors on the volleyball team. Obviously, he told him that he would only go if he went with him, so he wouldn't feel so lonely, because even surrounded by people, loneliness followed him as if he were carrying it inside a heavy backpack. It put pressure on his back and the weight increased when he tried to deny it.

He doesn't have many memories of the night, only that he was drinking, that Tommy never left his side, that several times he grabbed his arm to stop drinking, that Susie stuck to him a lot and that, in the end, he came to a conclusion: no matter how pretty she was or that on two occasions she tried to kiss him, he was not ready to have a good time as long as he was not able to close the bitter memory of the one who is no longer there. They may say he's an exaggerator, that he should let go, but we don't all feel the same way, do we?

At least, as a result of alcohol consumption, he had no memory of the dream he had.

**.  
.**

He was not sitting by the window, his mind was already enough of an attention diverter to add to it to be looking at the roads of the university. He listened to the professor's voice, understood what he was explaining, and if he didn't take enough notice it was because it was a reminder of previous classes; he already knew the basic structure of the articles, better to ignore the explanations and questions of those who haven't been paying attention.

The problem with Butch is that if he wasn't paying attention, he would start remembering, something that happened at the time, without him being aware of it.

He found himself sixteen again with a shy, blushing Robin who had just told him "I like you." He didn't know what to do, at the time, he did have an interest in the girl, but was it possible that the interest would disappear when it was mutual? Not knowing what to do at the time, he asked her for some time to think about it, and what he did was to go to Buttercup and tell her everything.

_ "You're a coward, you know that?” she said. “You told me you liked her, and now that she has the balls to tell you to your face, you tell me you didn't know what to say to her? Oh, my God”. _

_ “You're not me and I'm not you, don't fuck with me”. _

_ “That's why I can tell you that you're a coward. What's more, how come you'll lose interest once it's mutual? Don't fuck with me, Butch, that's pathetic. You could, at the very least, accept and go on a date with her". _

He smiled slyly, he was once again aware of where he was, however, that didn't last him too long, as the usual happened, someone was starting to play another tape of the movie.

« In their last moments together, where they didn't know that the day of saying goodbye was approaching, he was again telling her about his love troubles. The drama with Robin had been forgotten, because he was clear with her and told her that he didn't love her back. Butch actually liked  _ someone  _ else, but he had never been able to tell Buttercup or anyone else. He was lying on her bed, they used to have that trust, they were best friends after all. She was watching him from her desk chair as, unlike him, she didn't want to fail the chemistry exam again.

“Should I tell them?” he asks her.

“It all depends on you. Do you want them to know? What are you afraid of?”

“That they'll reject me”.

“No one could reject you... Unless they know you're an idiot who also has stinky feet”.

They remain silent, Butch hadn't responded to her provocation, Buttercup realized that the subject seemed to be serious. She sighed and walked over to the bed, tapped her fingers at him to make room for him. She didn't care if anyone in her family saw them, they were with the door open, and if that wasn't enough, they already knew there was too much trust between the two of them to weigh things too heavily.

“Do you really like  _ this person _ a lot?” she preferred not to say gender, she knew Butch was somewhat sensitive on the subject of discovery.

“Maybe... Yes”.

“If you have doubts, why do you want to confess?”

“I just don't want to miss any kind of opportunity," he covered his face.

“To miss an opportunity?” she sat on her bed and looked at him reproachfully, Butch felt some fear until he saw her laugh. “I already knew you were an idiot, but I didn't know you were so tender at the same time”.

“Did you just insult me?”

“Yes," Buttercup said and covered her mouth before laughing a little.

“Why?”

“Butch," she cleared her throat a little and shrugged, "why are you worrying about timing? We're young! You don't have to go suffering for something as simple as love,  _ you have your whole life ahead of you _ ".  »

He doesn't remember how the conversation went on, at that moment it was irrelevant, his chest hurt and tears were falling again. Not thinking twice, he grabbed his belongings and threw them into his backpack, not caring that they were in disarray. He stood up, caught the attention of his classmates and his teacher, apologized with a simple " excuse me" and walked out of the class. Honestly, it wasn't worth it to him whether he would be penalized or not.

It was going to be November 18 again, it was Buttercup's birthday, a date that made him overly sensitive, truth be told. For the last five years, when that date arrived, he had the tradition of toasting, with a coke, on her behalf, saying and wishing her "happy birthday". But every year it became sadder, because while he did celebrate his birthday, she could only commemorate it, and as the years went by, the pain increased. It wasn't just because he was getting older and no longer had his friend by his side to tease him, saying, "You're an old geezer! I shouldn't hang out with guys that old," it was also because he couldn't play that kind of joke on her. Buttercup  _ doesn't have _ a birthday, she  _ would have _ a birthday, and conjugating verbs like that meant reliving or stoking the pain.

“Isn't time supposed to heal everything?” he asked in a mumble to himself as he walked down the stairs to the faculty and wiped his tears with the sleeves of his sweater. “Why is this wound still so open?” and it's not something that can be closed just like that either.

Once he put his feet outside the building and felt the cold wind hit his face, he swallowed saliva, his face wet with tears, it made him feel colder. God, how he hated November. He relamped his lips and sighed, in vain, to dispel his urge to burst into tears, then bent his knees and hid his face between them and his arms, as if he were curling into a ball.

“It's not as if she's gone away," he said, his voice a little breathy.

**.  
.**

And the inevitable happens. The days go by and November 18 arrives. That day he kept Tommy very close to him, made sure he ate and only left him alone to go to training. What Tommy didn't know, was that Butch would not go to training as he had promised. Butch felt bad for lying to him, his friend would not forbid him to do his usual commemoration, in fact, he would have accompanied him even keeping a distance so he could have his intimate moment with her, but he did it, he did not go to practice, he bought two bottles of coke and sat on a bench in the streets of his college campus. It was seven o'clock, he had to wait until it was eight o'clock, it felt like the rite in the New Year. During that time, he stared at the sky, he thought that the colors seemed to be painted with watercolors, that the autumn sky had that clarity and brightness that gave the sensation of looking at frost. He was immersed again in an infinity of conversations that were only monologues, since there was no answer from whom he wanted.

The hour passes faster than he had thought at first. He sighs a little relieved, lifts his bottle of soda and looks up at the sky that was already taking on a darker shade of blue.

“Happy birthday, Buttercup”.

They used to have that tradition, to toast each other with a coke and wish each other a happy birthday, just as the exact time of their respective births arrived. He took a sip and struggled internally not to burst into tears so soon. He bit his lip and looked up at the sky again. He listened to the footsteps and a bit of the conversations of those who passed in front of him, he wanted to imagine having a conversation with her again, but what would they talk about now? It was there when another thought crept in among his own and his internal war was starting up again. Accidents, he thought, are more common than we think and even than we can imagine. At any time, someone, who just wanted to go for a walk in the mountains, can encounter a bad road and end up making maneuvers that cost the life they tried to save; or travel by plane and a misfortune occurs due to unfortunate and unpredictable weather....

Or you go to a concert, one that you have been waiting for so long, but an accident happens, the fall of a bleacher, and a lot of people end up falling on top of you.

One day you tell your  _ sis  _ how much you love her and will love her even if she gets engaged to the "poop" guy in the classroom, and the next day you get a phone call at six in the morning where they tell you about the accident your  _ sis  _ had and that they didn't tell you before because it was a hectic night because they didn't know anything about her, and the day after that, they call you to give you condolences for the sensitive death of your best friend of all your life.

The reason Butch suffers so much is because he can't, rather, he  _ doesn't feel it's fair _ for him to go on with his life when his other half was completely robbed of the right to do so. Because it wasn't her decision, she had only gone to enjoy the concert of one of her favorite bands, she never thought she would meet her death in that place. What were the odds? The number was ridiculously low.

They were going to grow up together, they wanted to grow old together too? Why the fuck did they have to take that dream away from them? Why? Why? Why?!

Butch clutched his head, the bottle fell to his side and its contents flipped completely over, what did that matter now. Again, he found it hard to breathe, his heartbeat increased speed and tears fell. "Time cures all, time cures all," he has heard it so many times, he repeated it to himself over and over again, but things don't turn out that way, time cures nothing. The crying was becoming unbearable, he was unable to stop his sobs from getting louder and louder, he couldn't open his eyes, he didn't want to open them either. He felt as if he were under water. He heard voices, female and male, but he heard them as if they were part of another plane, not his, they were not submerged as he was.

The only thing he could react to was to return Tommy's warm embrace, who had arrived in time for his rescue, before he collapsed completely.

**.  
.**

Buttercup was sitting on her bed, he looked at her a little confused. After a few seconds, she stood up and gave a little twirl causing her skirt to ride up a little but not enough to reveal anything. Butch, somewhat startled, sat down on her bed and looked around.

“What's the matter with you?” He heard her voice. “Did you see a mosquito or something?”

That was too real to be a dream. Was he really with her? Buttercup had gone over to the window to close it, a cool wind was blowing in. When she looks back at him, quizzical, she tilts her head to the side and asks:

“Is everything all right, Butch?”

“Yes," he touches his own chest and sees that he's wearing his school uniform. “Yes," he says again, but in a low tone of voice.

“Okay," she laughs a little, "are you going to keep telling me about this person?”

“What person?”

“Weren't you telling me that you liked someone and wanted to ask them out?”

“You're right,” he felt happy and went back to bed, “what a headache. Am I very silly to give importance to love?”

“Not only for that you are silly," she mocked as she lay down next to him again, "although giving importance to love is a human being thing. You know, I think your mistake is to think that your life is over just because of a rejection”.

Butch realizes that he had relived that moment with her, that he was possibly writing about the real story, that he was recording it on tape. Was it worth it? It didn't matter whether or not he had an answer, he might as well take a chance, it was better than waking up.

“Do you want to curl up here?” she held out one arm. “As if you were a bereaved baby”.

He didn't hesitate, even though his head was right on her chest, he didn't let his hormones play a trick on him. He hugged her and she hugged him. The warmth of her body was real, it wasn't a dream, he had returned to that moment, the caresses in his hair, given by her slender fingers, were giving him the comfort he had been needing so much.

“You don't have to worry about anything, Butch," Buttercup said in a soft tone of voice, "I told you, you're young, there are still many romances and love failures ahead of you”.

“Listen, as long as you never go away from me, I can put up with any love failure," he answered her with a whisper, he wanted to cry.

“Silly," she replies after a few seconds of silence, smiling, "I will  _ never _ leave, you are not capable of surviving without your  _ sis _ ”.

Butch closes his eyes, hugs her a little tighter, she laughs a little, and he was able to perceive her  _ scent _ , the apple perfume she used to wear, the warmth of her breath on his head, her body heat... and her heartbeat. She was indeed there, with him, holding him and giving him the comfort he was needing.

He was dreaming, he definitely was because he  _ knew _ what had happened. He knew that when he looked at his wrist, although he was also in his uniform, on his wrist was the tattoo he got once he turned eighteen: three x's. That was the tattoo she always wanted to have, and since she couldn't, he gave it to himself so that he would always carry a part of her on his skin.

“Buttercup," he says to her, "why did you leave, why don't I have you by my side?”

Although he felt like bursting into tears again, his voice did not break as he spoke. She looks at him strangely and shrugs her shoulders before telling him:

“You really think I'm going to leave? ‘Rest in peace’ they tell you,” she scoffs, “well, yes, I rest, but that doesn't mean I'm gone,” she looked straight into his eyes, indeed, they no longer had a sparkle and his face had no blush in it. “Butch, I'm always here, I'm always going to be here,” and she touches his chest with her index finger, wanting to point to his heart.

That was enough for Butch to start crying again. Buttercup hugs him, he immediately reciprocates. He didn't want to talk, he just wanted to soak in that moment and the memory of her voice. If her visit was real, he wanted to soak it all in, he didn't want to think it was just a dream, a figment of his imagination.

“I'm not going to leave you alone," she murmured in his ear, "you or anyone who misses me," she paused a little to take a breath. “But facts are facts, you're the one who's alive, you have the right to live, so please  _ live _ ," and her voice seemed to crack. “I want you to live, Butch, to remember me, however, not to be attached to the pain of my memory”.

**.  
.**

He cried and woke up. He realized he was sleeping in his bed, he sat up in it and watched his tears fall onto his palms, the nightstand light was on, he looked over to Tommy's bed and noticed he was looking at him sitting on his bed. They say nothing, Tommy stands up and Butch makes a space for him on his bed, they turn off the light and Butch snuggles into his friend's chest. Basically, Tommy lulls him to sleep. He was making loving touches in his hair, Butch hugged him tightly as he tried to calm the crying.

" _ I want you to live, Butch, _ " it was so real, but  _ so real _ , that it kept him from stopping crying, he clung tighter to Tommy, Tommy reciprocated the intensity of the hug and ran his hand down Butch's back.

“Here I am, Butch, cry quietly. I'm not going to leave you alone, okay?” he murmured, and Butch nodded.

“Tommy... She's here too," he said between tears and with a low tone of voice, Tommy smiled, the truth is that he wanted to cry too.

“Of course she is," he gave him a little kiss on the top of his head, "she has always been here. She's never left your side, Butch, and I'm sure she never will”.

“She told me so”.

“Then you must believe her," he continued, stroking his hair. “You're not alone”.


	5. OX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> そのついでにいっそすべて奪ってよ、って嘆いたあの夜の願いをそっと閉じ込めとくから  
> 深く潜ってその奥に眠る君を守るよ  
> 君が置いてったものばかりが僕のすべてになったの
> 
> 君が置いてったものばかりが僕の生命になったの
> 
> The wish I made that pitiful night I will keep within me,  
> I'll dive so deep and protect you while you sleep there.  
> What you left behind became "everything" to me.
> 
> What you left behind became my life.

The day after the accident, the day he received the call, he made a wish. Once he was allowed to see her, from outside her room, he made the same wish. That image of her, wounds and bruised skin from the blows, hooked up so she could breathe, the monitoring of her heart rate, which was very low compared to normal rates, all caused him to make the same wish: "If you have to take her away, do it soon and without pain". He hated himself for putting that first and not leaving her alive.

She was in an induced coma, she could not receive visitors, so Butch stayed in the waiting room in the company of the girl's family and his brothers; he had been told that she would be left with serious sequelae, possibly unable to walk and losing a hand, plus, the lack of oxygenation in the brain.... Buttercup would not be an independent person if she woke up at all.

There was a moment when he was alone, his brothers went to get some food and a hot drink, Butch did not want to move from the place, he thought that at any second some nurse would come out to tell them that Buttercup had woken up and they would be discharging her tomorrow morning. He also thought that, if so, he would see her at school on Monday, just like that. It was a feeling that was not far from reality, it was just that, come on, it was common to see her every school day, rare would it be not to do so again. However, the world had decided otherwise.

Buttercup was no longer going to play for her volleyball team.

Buttercup was not going to study nursing.

Buttercup could no longer fulfill her dream of being the first female coach of the nation's volleyball team.

Buttercup also would not be able to date Tommy, as she had told him so many times.

He thought back to that moment whenever he went to the cemetery, the memories growing stronger each time he found himself closer to the girl's grave. Luckily, his brothers and Tommy were right behind him, carrying flowers that they would leave for her. Among all the headstones in the aisle, Buttercup's was the only one with fresh, white flowers and more reddish tones, as if symbolizing the purity of her soul with the flowers alone. He carried her white roses and a red one, his intentions he was going to keep quiet and would never say them out loud, he just wanted her to understand.

Once they were in front of Buttercup's grave, his brothers and Tommy left their flowers, making room for themselves among the ornaments that had been left for her. Her name was there, on the headstone, as well as her date of birth and her date of death. Butch pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose a little.

“We'll leave you alone for a moment," Boomer told him. “Take all the time you want”.

They left him alone, he waited a couple of seconds before he laid his bouquet on the headstone, as it was the only place where there was room, otherwise he would have to cover up her name and he didn't want to do that. He rubbed his palms together and brought them to his mouth to let out a little breath to warm them up.

“Did I tell you that I'm playing much better than before?” he began to speak. “Seriously, I have a nickname: ‘The straight fool’. Out of fifteen straight shots, I've only been stopped twice”.

He told her everything he had been doing since his last visit, when it was another year since his death on a strange May 23rd. He told her about his grades, he told her about the manager, how much he missed his brothers and how he had improved his cooking skills, as now he didn't forget the salt and didn't confuse curry with turmeric. He was silent for a moment after laughing at the last comment, still not used to that dynamic of talking without having anyone to talk back to him.

“Thank you," he spoke again, "for coming to visit me the other night," he ran his hand around his neck and squeezed the sun charm he had as a necklace, "You know, I like the thought of you always being with me, in fact, I had this made," and he reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone wrapped in a silicone case and show her the back where, through the case, a small card could be seen, a picture they had taken of each other. Butch draped an arm over her shoulders and she held up the peace sign. “It's funny, I saw a girl's phone, she had a picture of an artist and I was thinking, why not have one of us?”

He kept his arm stretched out towards the tombstone, he wanted to believe she was there, sitting there and leaning in for a closer, closer look at the case as he said, "Who would think you could be this romantic?". He couldn't hold it in and let out his tears, only this time it was different, because he was smiling. He was sad, yes, but since he had that dream with her, he realized that memories should be treasured with the love and importance they deserved, not mourned because he won't be able to create anymore.

“I miss you," he murmurs, his voice cracking, his smile not fading. “And I love you too much”.

He had made a promise to himself, he made her a promise.

“I'm going to get out of the hole I'm in," he took a deep breath, put his phone away and wiped away his tears, "now I know I can do it," he looked back at the tombstone and then up at the blue sky that was being covered by thin clouds that looked like stretched absorbent cotton, "I have you with me, I know now I can do it. I have you with me, I know now I can do it right. I will be able to live, because you are with me”.

**.  
.**

By Thanksgiving Day, he did not care to look closely at how his family's booths were distributed, he was already calmer, waiting for the toast with cider, after giving thanks, he would leave his hand raised three seconds longer than the rest. His family already knew, they respected his decision to dedicate a toast to the one who is no more, even if they themselves named her in the prayer.

Butch smiled at his glass and took a small sip. He sighed in relief. It would be the last day he would drink alcohol, if that was what his therapist suggested. That holiday was special, not only because unlike previous years he wasn't watching the time to lock himself in the bathroom for a bit to cry, but because he had told his family that he would be entering treatment to take care of his mental health.

His goal was to "get over it”. He wasn't going to forget, it's impossible, anyway; Butch wanted to move forward.

**.  
.**

A month later, Christmas Eve arrives. Butch's rejoicing also comes because Tommy would be spending it with him and his family. He liked Tommy, so much so that Butch always reminded him that he used to fight with Buttercup, she seemed to be interested in him, frequently telling him "if you don't want Tommy, leave him to me". Something that made Butch quite uneasy, Buttercup, it was assumed, was interested in Mitch.

They wore sweaters, the same model, but in different colors, all had their own. Boomer handed a black one to Tommy to make him feel part of the group of idiots. Laughing, they commented that Tommy was so thin that the sweater was too big for him, but he said it didn't matter, he was comfortable. Butch looked at him from head to toe, smiled and nodded.

" _ Oh, what would you say to me now? _ " thought Butch with a certain tone, as if he were trying to provoke Buttercup's jealousy.

That night they drank hot chocolate, sang drunkenly -Butch too, since he wasn't on any kind of medication-, Brick prepared a drink that was to be drunk hot. Everything was very cool, specially prepared for Butch to have an excellent time and feel inside a harmonious atmosphere, ad hoc with the time and the celebration they were in. And since the main focus was Butch, Tommy's presence was essential to ensure the fun for the Jojo in the middle.

And when they were supposed to go to sleep, being almost two in the morning, Tommy who had fallen asleep on the couch, next to the fireplace that was already turned off, realizes that Brick and Boomer had left the room, only Butch was with him, but he was looking out the window, the snow had already begun to fall. The light from the street was coming in without any curtains to get in the way, Butch was sitting on the floor, he looked like a child, he looked so innocent, so vulnerable. Tommy walked over and stood next to him. At first it scared him, but when he realized it was him, Butch smiled and spoke to him:

“Merry Christmas”.

“Merry Christmas," Tommy replied.

“She would have called me on the phone," he said without waiting a minute, Tommy sighed.

“Well, obviously she can't right now, but she sure is here,” and he touches his chest with his right palm, then he grabs his face with both hands, surprising Butch for how fast he went. “She won't leave you alone, now she has other ways to wish you congratulations,” he squeezed his cheeks a little, Butch laughed. “Don't forget it or doubt it, ok?”

“She told me that," he answered with a chuckle as he removed Tommy's hands from his face, but Tommy wouldn't budge.

“If she told you that, it's for a reason. Don't make her suffer, she doesn't want to see you suffer," Butch cried out a little from the pain caused by his friend's pinching.

“I know, I know all that, come on, that's why I'm trying to get ahead," Tommy stopped pinching him, Butch rubbed his cheeks. “I've been thinking... It's great to be able to say I have a  _ ghost friend _ ".

“Are you kidding? You don't think it's disrespectful to her memory?”

“Not really. I'm sure it's a kind of conversation she and I would have. You have to keep the momentum going, isn't that what they always tell me?”

“You're a case," Tommy laughed.

“If I have a ghost friend that means I can ask her for thunder”.

“No shit, they scare me”.

Butch laughed, Tommy felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Buttercup," he says to the Korean's amazement, "make thunder!”

“She can't do that," Tommy replied immediately. “Besides, it's snowing”.

“What's that got to do with it?”

“It is very rare when there is thunder. The cold air is not very suitable”.

“Ah," Butch pouted and watched the soft snow fall. “Buttercup," he said again, "what if you make the snow more intense?”

“No shit," Tommy sighed.

“No-fuckin'-me!” Butch exclaimed as he stood up and pressed his palms against the window. “Are you watching?”

The snow began to fall with increasing speed. Tommy also stood up in surprise.

"Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed an astonished Butch. “Are you watching, Tommy? It was Buttercup!”

“How can you be so sure?”

“You're so skeptical, that's why you don't have a girlfriend”.

“Shut up”.

They both laughed, Butch glanced sideways at Tommy, who was still staring at the falling snow.

“Buttercup,” Butch said again, Tommy didn't look at him but laughed a little, "wind, too much wind”.

“No! What if the wiring is ruined?”

But the wind had started blowing hard, Butch clapped his hands excitedly.

“Okay, I think this ghost friend thing is interesting”.

“Of course it's interesting," Butch defended himself, "because it's Buttercup. If it's Buttercup, everything is interesting, beautiful and worth admiring”.

“You're right”.

The dim street lights only let them see each other's faces, but they just wanted to watch the snow fall. Butch knew he couldn't believe that it was really Buttercup that caused those phenomena, he had already heard the weather forecast in the morning, the snowstorm was a fact like every Christmas, so now he just took advantage of the instance to perform his dynamic, that dynamic with which he would remember her fondly: to see her and feel her everywhere. If he did that, he was sure he could make it through.

However, Butch knew it would not be an easy road. It hadn't been for the five years that had passed, how could it be from one moment to the next? But he made her a promise, he wanted to fulfill what she asked of him, and so he would, even if it meant sinking into his regrets from time to time. He was going to fulfill it, he was going to live because she asked him to, he wanted to believe in that, and so he would fulfill it just as it would have been if she were still in the earthly world. What did another night of lamenting matter? Someday, it would stop hurting so much.

That Christmas night, Butch was in the company not only of his family, he was with his unconditional Tommy, the one he knew he could have forever by his side, in addition, he had the spiritual company of Buttercup and that, although she might not be the cause of the natural phenomena that were occurring as Butch mentioned them, she was very present in the memory of all those who knew her, in the memory of all those who loved her, and Butch was precisely one of them, he would not want to see them suffer for something they could not avoid.

Someday, the scar would stop opening, and on that day, Butch could say that he was happy to have known Buttercup and to have been a part of her life.

For now, he would have to get used to the pain.

  
  


_ the end _


End file.
